Because the words aren’t as pretty as I thought

I drove both to get perspective and lighten the load in my van.

We don’t take TV’s, the man said.  So I pulled out, my heart feeling as heavy as the back of my van.

I wasn’t going to write these words.

God told me there were new words and I thought he meant pink, fluffy shades of pastel sunsets.

I know I heard him right.

I’ve had years of practice.

Years where he provided enough in dry deserts.

 

Years of silent tears and bight red ledgers.

Years without laughter never mind actual rest.

Years of work with a dangling thick cord of hopes deeply buried and dreams undiscovered.

I tied expectations to the work of honesty.

But I’m hanging on to the end of corded expectations.  The sunset isn’t pink as it sets over the lapping waves.

And I’m angry.

My feet aren’t dancing on sand, they’re buried in gun powder.

At the very least, I expected a clean break for my heart.

Jagged broken edges of a heart leaving clean cuts to heal quickly.

This is mangled ends of singed shredded flesh.

And the world marches on.

Seemingly happy people anesthetized completely by activity or comfort or busy.

How are they OK living numb lies while I dive into hot bubbly pain that won’t cool.

I’m self righteous in my pain.

I chose the right way, the honest searching of a soul and this is the reward?

Are you kidding me?

This?

Searing flesh?

Raw words are ugly and I didn’t rest my dreams on  ugly.

This is not the story that I wanted to write.

I planned to write from a place of healing and I’m a patient fully awake while they halve my heart and remove a lung.

He told me to breathe in deep.

You are Lord God Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth

and breathe out slow

and the Healer of my soul

I thought that 17 years of looking pain straight in the face would be enough.

I’m sure that Job planned on keeping his children, too.

And the voices scream who do you think you are comparing yourself with Job,  you should be so righteous.

No, this wasn’t my plan.

The words weren’t supposed to be this ugly.

They were supposed to be pretty.

And so I wait and I breathe and I beg and I dig deeper to be honest in the depth of a pain I thought would be better by now.

And I believe as one who has Hope while I beg forgiveness for my unbelief.

11 thoughts on “Because the words aren’t as pretty as I thought

  1. You may view the words as ugly, but I see honesty and transparency. One of my favorite things God does is bring beauty from ashes. Hold on because your beauty is coming and girl, it’s gonna’ be gorgeous!

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  2. I chose the right way, the honest searching of a soul and this is the reward?
    Wow. Righteous in my anger, I can relate. It’s so frustrating to do the work, only to learn there is more work to be done. Keep it up, the reward will come.
    So glad I follow you on Twitter, my reader & stats are ‘stuck’, flying blind these days! Trying to be patient and learn from it.

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  3. I feel some of that pain right now as I’ve just lost a beloved friend whom I loved and nursed to the last breath. Although accepting of the Lord’s will the whole way through the raw edges of grief are overwhelming me at times. It is OK to pour out our pain for that is honesty, You express it so eloquently.

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  4. I hear ya lady, iv’e been there a million times myself, and yes the pain is hard to endure and there were and still are times when i fight against it all. Your not alone in this, the honest people out there know what that can be like. Believe me i have fought with God many a times ! Enjoy reading your heart felt post , nothing better than connecting with someone who can be REAL 🙂

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  5. Pingback: In light of aching shoulders and burning words | Marcy Holder

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